How things look through an Oregonian's eyes

December 30, 2006

Yesterday my athletic-watching skills were sorely tested. But I passed with high marks. With astounding skill I managed to go out in public while the Oregon State-Missouri Sun Bowl game was being recorded on my DVR, and return home without knowing who won.

I’ve got considerable practice at this, so I’d be remiss if I didn’t share some tips with those just coming up in the sports event recording ranks. Of course, I had to hone my talent in the school of VCR hard knocks.

When I used to play doubles at the Salem Tennis and Swim Club, I can’t tell you how many times our foursome would leave the court just as I’d hear one of the guys who were taking the next time slot loudly say, “Man, what a game! I can’t believe the Ducks pulled it out in the last ten seconds”

Thanks a lot, guy, I’d think. There goes my evening athletic event television watching plan, unless I want to confirm what I already know has happened.

Being older and slightly wiser now, I carefully timed my Sun Bowl day. Got the DVR (digital video recorder) programmed with an hour added to the scheduled end for possible overtime. Watched most of the first half, minus the absurdly missing CBS Special Report six minutes.

I needed to pick up our Highlander that had been serviced at Capitol Toyota. I had Laurel take me at halftime. Car dealerships are a danger zone for someone with a recorded yet not seen (RYNS) game waiting at home. The service area waiting room usually has a TV on, and bored salesmen with nothing much to do might be hanging around talking sports.

But I got out of there with no problem. My next three stops also had me flowing in the game-talk free zone.

So I was four for four and feeling on a roll when I walked into our independent pharmacy to pick up a prescription. Right away my RYNS antennae perked up. A radio was on. Tuned to the Sun Bowl. The pharmacist was listening to it. I tried to take charge of the situation.

I told the pharmacist’s assistant, “Don’t tell me the score! Don’t say anything about the game! I’m recording it.” Offense is better than defense. Also, constant muttering is better than silence, because that way intelligible speech from the radio has less of a chance of penetrating the brain.

I kept up meaningless chatter through the VISA validation process. But then I remembered that I needed to ask the pharmacist a question. My guard was down for a moment. The assistant must have sensed the opening. Or maybe he’d forgotten my earlier admonition.

Somehow I managed to lean over the counter and talk with the pharmacist without hearing more about the score than I already had. Focus, focus, I kept telling myself. Zero in on what he and you are saying. Ignore the announcers.

It worked. I was feeling pretty confident now. I figured that all my errands would have carried me through the second half. Now I headed to the Courthouse Athletic Club, my last stop of the day, where I anticipated all the televisions would be tuned to the next bowl game.

I anticipated wrong. My worst nightmare was scarily apparent as soon as I checked in at the front desk: a crowd was clustered around a big screen TV, where I could see the Oregon State and Missouri uniform colors.

My mind raced. Shit! The game is still going on! I’m screwed. For the very last place you want to be, the absolute last, when you’re planning to watch a game at home that you’re recording but which isn’t over yet, is an athletic club.

Televisions abound. Sports, not surprisingly, is a big part of what club members and staff talk about. This was going to take every bit of RYNS skill that I possessed if I was going to get through the next hour without knowing who won.

I briskly walked into the men’s locker room and looked for the most deserted changing area. I started humming while I put my workout clothes on. Blot-out noise. Then, my first serious challenge: a distant murmur of excited Sun Bowl talk.

It was coming closer. I darted into a restroom stall, sat on the toilet, and put fingers in my ears. And also, hummed. That’s acceptable behavior in a men’s locker room toilet, I figured. When the bowl conversation faded away, I crept out of the stall.

And into the aerobic room. Carefully. A quick glance told me, not good.

Two of the six televisions were tuned to the Sun Bowl. Plus, a notoriously expressively verbal guy was on a treadmill. I knew that he liked to loudly comment, to no one in particular, on games he was watching. I wasn’t going to be able to stairmaster for 35 minutes in that room without being taken to the know-the-score cleaners.

So I audibled myself. Changed my usual workout pattern on the fly. Turned around and headed for the machine weight room. No TVs there. A lot safer. I encountered Leo, an 80-something workout buddy who I like to talk progressive politics with.

“Nothing about the game, Leo, nothing. I’m recording it.” I said this loudly enough to carry through the room. Preventive hear-the-score medicine in case anybody else was inclined to start chatting about the final minutes of the Sun Bowl.

“I’m not interested in it at all, Brian. No worries.” Whew. I began to think I could get through this after all. But right at the end of my weight room workout, as I was finishing up some yoga stretches, I could hear Leo talking to a guy who was interested in the game. I couldn’t help but hear, “they pulled it out in the last few seconds.”

That was when I started to hum again. Loudly. And focused on my shoulder stand. Until Leo’s conversation ended.

Now I figured it was safe to go back into the aerobics room. Peeking around the corner, I was relieved to see than none of the TVs were showing the Sun Bowl. I'd made it. Or so I thought.

I hadn’t taken into account how many people were wearing OSU t-shirts and sweatshirts. And how they were congregating in excited groups. Celebrating or mourning? I tried my best not to get any clues. Not even if the lithe female body wearing the OSU top was well worth cluing in on.

The strain was starting to get to me. I was using a lot of psychic energy staring at the least likely television to show the final score. But in this RYNS game you can never relax. “Expect the unexpected” is the only rule.

Peripheral vision—all important. I caught a flash of “KOIN News Update” on the adjoining screen. Avert eyes, avert eyes! I kept my head down until the danger passed.

Soon after I was in my car, driving home. With the radio off, naturally. Nestled on our couch, mostly ignorant of the outcome, I hugely enjoyed watching the game. I say “mostly” because I had a feeling that OSU was the winner.

But I’d done a good enough job of blotting out televisions, radios, conversations, and body language to not be sure. And all that’s needed to enjoy a recorded game is not being absolutely certain of the outcome.

This should, in fact, be a guaranteed right. A friend just told me about a voice that came over a Safeway store loudspeaker after the Sun Bowl ended, saying “Congratulations to the Beavers, who just won 39-38.”

He said that a woman who’d recorded the game marched up to the manager and complained. Good for her. This was a slight of justice. Or rather, it should have been. And if the bill I hope to have introduced in the Oregon legislature passes, one day it will be.

I’m envisioning a statute along these lines. People who are recording a game in progress, or one that has been over for less than an hour, would wear a brightly colored vest similar to those used by road construction flaggers (color open to negotiation; if the Democrats support my bill, I’m willing to make the vests blue).

Anyone watching or listening to an athletic event in a public place would be required to turn the television or radio off while the RYNS vest-wearer is within eye- or ear-shot. Conversations about the score also would be prohibited. Failure to do this would result in a substantial fine. I’m thinking at least $100. More if the game is significant.

Ideally, stores would need to have an employee stationed near every entrance while a sporting event featuring an Oregon major college team is being played (I’m open to making the law read “college or professional,” but personally I don’t give a rip about the Blazers).

If the employee spots a RYNS vest wearer, an announcement would be made over the store’s public address system: “All game viewing, listening, or talk must cease now.” To some this might seem a bit Orwellian, but what’s the good of government if it can’t protect our right to watch a recorded game without knowing the final score?

If the Oregon legislature wants to call it “Brian’s Law,” I won’t object. Anything to help my fellow RYNSians.

December 29, 2006

Dear CBS, when you broke into the last 6:20 of the first half of the Oregon State-Missouri Sun Bowl game a little while ago, I was worried that World War III had broken out.

After all, it’d have to be something really important to warrant broadcasting a CBS News Special Report in the middle of an exciting live football game. I was reassured when I saw that you were merely informing us that the six day funeral of Gerald Ford had gotten under way.

Are you insane? I found the photos of black limousines interesting for about two seconds, after which I wanted the damn Sun Bowl back. I can catch up on the funeral sometime during the next six days, thank you. Or, not.

But those six minutes of the last half…they’re gone forever. When the game returned, it was halftime. The brief highlights you showed of what I, and everyone else in the country, missed revealed that some interesting plays transpired.

A lot more interesting than slowly moving black limousines. May I suggest that whoever came up with this crazy idea of a Special Report on a six day funeral in the midst of a bowl game be demoted to CBS janitor.

Though even that may be a more responsible position than he or she deserves.

December 28, 2006

If I’m going to be reincarnated, coming back as Antonio Banderas would be entirely acceptable. As Roger Ebert says at the end of his “Take the Lead” review, Banderas oozes cool and charisma, just like he does in all of his movies that I’ve seen.

“Desperado” remains one of my peak cinematic experiences, notwithstanding Ebert’s tepid review. However, I have to admit that my memories are as much of Salma Hayek as of my man Antonio.

Last night Laurel and I finished watching “Take the Lead,” a predictable yet inspiring story of how ballroom dance changes the lives of inner city kids. Banderas is a dance instructor who brings the tango, waltz, and fox trot into a basement high school detention hall.

By the time he’s done (gosh, what a surprise!), the once-resistant students have become ardent dance aficionados, able to go head to head with snooty white kids at a fancy competition. They meld their street hip hop moves with traditional styles, loosening up even the staid judges.

Banderas is as much an etiquette teacher as a dance instructor. Waiting in the high school office to talk to the principal, he stands up whenever a woman walks by and opens the door for her, thereby melting the hearts of female office staff.

This reminded me of the time I was in the Portland condo of a sixty-ish couple who I had worked with before but didn’t know very well socially. I was sitting in the living room with the husband, waiting for his wife to get dressed. We were chatting away, then he suddenly stopped talking and leaped to his feet.

At first I had no idea what was going on. Then, I did. Good god, I realized, he actually rises whenever his wife walks into the room. At least when company is around. I felt like an etiquette clod. For a while after that I made a point of opening car doors and such for Laurel. But I blow hot and cold when it comes to traditional courtesies.

Maybe “Take the Lead” will re-inspire me. I liked how Banderas explained why men have to learn how to take the lead in dance, and why women have to learn how to trust them. As in dance, so in life. Respect between the sexes on the hardwood floor transfers over into respect on the street. And the living room.

Yesterday I got an email message from Chan Park, the author of “Tango Zen” (who presents a koan on his web site, how can you dance tango without legs?). I ordered the book directly from Chan a while back, and he’d asked how I liked it.

I told him about my glimpse of Tango Zen. I’d welcome a more expansive view. Hopefully I’ll be able to attend one of Chan’s workshops someday. In one of his emails, Chan shared his philosophy.

TangoZen is about learning to appreciate traditional tango through disciplines of Zen, which is synonymous to simplicity and clarity of body and mind. For decades dancers have discovered that learning to enjoy dancing requires not only physical but also mental disciplines.

TangoZen is to advocate and promote the traditional tango with aid of the Zen, which teaches us to devote 100% of our physical and mental attention to what we are doing Here Now.

…Goal of the TangoZen courses is to help the students appreciate the tradition tango by experiencing total concentration on dancing while dancing Tango. To accomplish the goal, the students in the TangoZen courses are guided to practice a number of exercises, which are fundamental and closely linked to tango dance movements.

The exercises are adopted from martial arts such as Tai Chi and Chi Kung, and meditation techniques such as yoga.

Sounds good. Right up my alley.

Laurel and I hope to continue learning Tango through a five-week class being offered by the RJ Dance Studio in Salem next month. Only a few couples have signed up so far, so I want to plug the class in the hopes that some other locals will get the Tango bug.

Watch “Take the Lead” and you’ll see some hot Tango that might infect you. When I phoned the RJ Dance Studio today to put our names down I mentioned the movie. “That’s basically American Tango,” I was told, “not Argentine Tango. We teach American in our class.”

Cool. We’ve been learning Argentine, but I’m way open to looking more like Antonio Banderas. And I already have a blonde partner. Throw in some Zen, and I’ll be ready to hit the dance floor.

December 26, 2006

Being a vegetarian can be complicated. Fish oil is the best source of Omega-3 fatty acids, which confer important benefits to the heart, brain, eyes, and other body parts/functions.

But I don’t like the idea of eating a once swimming life form (though my wife points out that I take a joint supplement, Celadrin, which contains an ingredient that once was part of a cow).

So I’ve been searching for a karma-lite way to get my Omega 3’s. Several years ago I started taking a couple of flax oil capsules every day. I’ve also tried frozen waffles with hemp seed, which are legal again after the failure of an ill-considered federal attempt to ban hemp products..

Flax is one of the best vegetarian sources of Omega 3. However, it’s still a long ways from matching fish oil. It seems that flax has lots of ALA (alpha-linoleic acid). This is a parental fatty acid that gets converted into the children of DHA (docosahexaenoic acid) and EPA (eicosapentaenoic acid).

DHA and EPA are the truly beneficial Omega 3’s. So if ALA doesn’t get converted into them, eating gobs of flax oil or flax seed isn’t going to accomplish much. And from what I’ve been able to fathom (more knowledgeable readers, please correct me), a number of factors prevent vegetarian ALA from being converted into DHA and EPA.

Thus I’ve also been taking Source Naturals’ Neuromins DHA, which comes from algae. It’s billed as a “dietary supplement for the brain,” so I try to never forget to ingest two 100 mg capsules a day. That way I know how much DHA I’m getting, 200 mg—a bit more than my wife gets from her three Eskimo-3 fish oil capsules (130 mg).

Yet Laurel’s fish oil supplement has 210 mg of EPA and I’m batting zero. I’m no expert on the relative value of EPA and DHA, but the couple who wrote “The A-Z’s of Omega 3s” obviously have done a lot of research. They say:

Ralph Holman from the University of Minnesota and the Grand Master of essential fatty acid studies in humans, once summed up the situation by saying 'DHA is structure, EPA is function.'"

Well, I’d like my brain to have both structure and function. So it’s been bothering me that I couldn’t find a vegetarian source of EPA. Earlier this month I embarked on a search for this non-fishy Omega 3 Holy Grail. Thanks to Google, I believe I succeeded.

A few days ago two bottles of V-Pure Omega 3 arrived in the mail from Switzerland. It isn’t sold in the United States so far, to my knowledge. V-Pure is derived from algae by some sort of secret process that the makers are coy about, supposedly to protect their patent.

That makes me a bit wary. However, the bottles I received say that two capsules a day provide 75 mg of EPA and 270 mg of DHA (a lot less EPA than fish oil, but a lot more than nothing). Maybe I’m overly trusting of the European Union and Swiss manufacturing, but I’m taking them at their word.

With just three days of this supplement in my system my brain doesn’t seem to be functioning noticeably differently than before. I do seem to have a clearer view of the world, but that’s probably because I haven’t been watching much Fox News over the Christmas weekend.

So I recommend that vegetarians looking for a good non-fish Omega 3 source check out V-Pure. It’s kind of cool to order from a European web site (they have a currency converter) and I got my order in a shade under three weeks.

I’m skeptical that this product is going to change the world like the maker says. But if it changes my brain and heart for the better, it’s worth the charge to my VISA card.

[Update: thanks to a comment from ET, I was led to this additional information about the benefits of Omega 3 fatty acids and the need to reduce your Omega 6 intake to derive maximum benefit from the "3s."]

December 24, 2006

Well, with just three hours to go on the west coast it looks like Christmas has survived the war against it. Which, of course, pretty much existed only in the addled outlook of Fox News and Bill O’Reilly.

Speaking from the agnostic Taoist perspective, I look forward to celebrating the birth of Jesus by enjoying a vegetarian buffet at Salem's Marco Polo restaurant and opening a few presents that I bought for myself that are being wrapped by my wife at this very moment.

As I did earlier today for a few gifts that she bought for herself. This year we decided to downplay Christmas even more than we usually do. Before New Year’s we’ll sit down with our checkbook and VISA card to make donations to some favorite charities. It’s nice, I guess, to have an extra reason to give.

Otherwise, for me the Christmas season has more negatives than pluses. I’ve had to expend some extra calories each time I turned my head to studiously ignore a Salvation Army bell ringer. Trying to tune out annoying holiday music in the stores required an extra expenditure of psychic energy.

Since the War on Christmas inciters make a big deal out of saying “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays,” I’ve had to pay special attention to how I respond to well-wishers. I didn’t want to seem on the side of O’Reilly, so usually replied “you too” to whatever greeting a store employee gave me. (My wife went with “Happy Holidays.”)

Religious life in America has never been more robust, visible and free than it is today…If you want to see what a real war on Christians looks like, just look around the globe.

Imagine being a Christian in Saudi Arabia. Imagine being part of a minute minority in a nation where another set of beliefs is actively supported and promulgated by the government. Imagine being marginalized, ridiculed, and put down when you express your own faith.

Imagine that, and you’ll have a pretty good idea of why both Christians and non-Christians should be concerned about where our country has been heading. I read in a recent Newsweek issue that “46% of Americans believe that the U.S. government ‘should advocate Christian values.’”

It should be close to zero percent. I’m a non-Christian. My daughter is a non-Christian. And I’m willing to bet that with such sterling grandfatherly and motherly influences, my soon to be born granddaughter will choose to be a non-Christian.

Still, I don’t want her brainwashed by a Christianist government, just as Christians living in Saudi Arabia would resent having Islam pressed upon their children. Remember: Do unto others…

So let’s all heed Haynes’ Christmas Eve message:

What really bothers some Christian evangelicals is not the lack of freedom—it’s the loss of monopoly. Many of the conflicts in the so-called “war on Christians” appear to be about restoring the “good old days” when Protestant Christianity was semi-established as the national religion.

But pushing for a Christian Nation will not advance Christianity, it will kill it. From China to Turkey to Europe, state involvement in religion is the root of persecution, dissention, and division.

How ironic. At a time when some Christian leaders in America are decrying “separation of church and state,” millions of Christians around the world are praying for it.

December 22, 2006

God, I love Google. Through its magic I found a belly laugh-producing video rendition of “Oh Holy Night” after hearing it played on a radio talk show this evening. Callers-in begged the host to never, ever, play it again.

December 20, 2006

There was a loud pop in a Marion County hearing room last night. Dozens of our neighbors burst the bubble of Measure 37, the horribly flawed attempt to trash Oregon’s land use laws.

My wife and I have the unfortunate distinction of living near one of the first Measure 37 subdivision proposals to reach the county Planning Commission. Leroy Laack and his co-owners are out to convert 124 acres of beautiful farmland, perfect for growing grapes or some other crop, into 42 lots.

Just as Peter Bray predicted in his ironic Oregonians…Get Rich Quick With Measure 37! When I first saw this web page back in 2004, before Measure 37 was voted on, I thought it was humorous. Now it’s not so funny, because the paving over of Oregon by greedy landowners is coming true.

Thankfully, Oregonians are fighting back. Last night the Marion County Planning Commission got an earful. For four hours.

Dozens of people who live near the proposed subdivision, which adjoins our Spring Lake Estates neighborhood, testified about groundwater problems that already are bad and will be made worse by adding 42 more unplanned wells (and homes).

Laack’s hired gun planner admitted that the reason they want to build homes on mostly two to three acre lots rather than on larger acreages which wouldn’t cause such a risk to groundwater was simple: “To maximize income.”

Well, there’s nothing wrong with making money. Unless you’re earning it in a sleazy fashion. Person after person testified that their homes would drastically decline in value if their wells fail. And Larry Eaton, a professional hydrogeologist, testified that this is likely if the subdivision goes ahead as planned.

One neighbor said, “I don’t want to lay awake at night wondering when the faucet will go dry.” He shouldn’t have to. Yet Measure 37 elevates the right of privileged property owners to make money over the right of people already living in the area to protect the value of their real estate investment.

The Planning Commission heard repeated pleas from people who had bought homes adjacent to land zoned EFU (exclusive farm use), expecting that if the zoning were ever changed, it would be in a fair and open fashion.

But Measure 37 isn’t about fairness or openness. It’s mainly about making money (apart from the few claimants who simply want to build a single home on their land, after having been prevented from doing so by a regulation imposed after their bought their property).

Leroy Laack and company hope to be able to drain scarce water out of an aquifer located in an area that is officially designated as “groundwater limited.” As Eaton put it, it’s akin to putting 42 more straws into a bowl whose level already is dropping because more water is being sucked out than is going in.

Person after person pleaded with the Planning Commission to stop the unthinking pro-development madness that is Measure 37. There has to be a limit, they said. It isn’t possible to keep cramming more houses into an area where wells have to be replaced or deepened with depressing regularity.

Not one person testified in favor of the proposed subdivision, aside from Laack’s paid consultants. Yet often I heard, “I’m not against development. I’m just against development that harms the people who already live in the area.”

Our sentiments exactly. We’re grateful to own a home in Spring Lake Estates, a subdivision that dates from the early 1970s. But what made sense then doesn’t now. Today many more people live in the south Salem hills. Existing wells are draining the groundwater in an unsustainable fashion.

Yet Measure 37 attempts to roll the land use regulation clock back to whenever someone bought their property. Fortunately, there is an exemption in the law for health and safety concerns, such as the availability of water. Given the groundwater problems in our area, there’s no way this subdivision should be approved.

As Jeff Kleinman, attorney for the Keep Our Water Safe committee that Laurel is heading up, said last night: “Measure 37 isn’t a blank check to do whatever you want.”

(Update: A 5.7 MB PDF file of Kleinman's memorandum to the Planning Commission is available. It was given to us upside down; the Adobe Reader toolbar lets you rotate the pages to right side up; or, print the pages.)Download KOWSmemo.pdf

You can’t ruin lives by taking away the water on which residents in our area depend. Nor can you make it difficult or impossible to farm on adjoining acreages by plopping a subdivision down in their midst.

The Planning Commission postponed a decision on the subdivision proposal for two weeks. We were pleased. It’s obvious that this Measure 37 development needs to be drastically scaled back or, ideally, rejected altogether. On January 2, we expect that the Commission will recognize this obviousness.

December 16, 2006

My wife offered the first review of my recently released YouTube feature, Walk in Oregon windstorm. “The dramatic mood of danger is undermined by Serena wagging her tail so much,” she said.

True. But such is the challenge of cinema verite. I show what it was actually like to walk through our south Salem woods in the late afternoon of Thursday, December 14, 2006, as a major windstorm was blowing in.

I wish these seven and a half minutes contained more adventure. However, I’m glad that this didn’t include a large Douglas Fir falling on me. That possibility was in my mind throughout the walk.

It would have made for some terrific YouTube footage, assuming my camcorder had survived. I’m not that hungry for fifteen minutes of posthumous fame though, especially if it means sacrificing what I hope is more than fifteen years of remaining life.

I can add at least a little bit of background excitement to my video with this photo I took today. A fir tree at the edge of our property did indeed fall over in the windstorm. It was caught in the crook of another tree. We’ll have to decide whether to leave it leaning or have it cut down.

In the Salem area the wind got up to 80 miles an hour. I don’t know if it was that high at our house. We got through the storm with just some fallen fir branches. Plus eight hours of no electricity, which I thought was going to be a lot longer. Way to go, PGE! Great work, given the hundreds of thousands of homes in Oregon that lost power.

On Thursday I thought about skipping the traditional dog walk: across the creek, through the woods, around the lake, and home again. But I figured that if those 100 foot plus firs had stayed upright for as long as they have, the chance of one falling on me or Serena was pretty slim.

Plus, I love the elemental sound of the wind howling as tall firs sway above me. It’s nice to be reminded that even with all of our towering human accomplishments, we’re still very small in the eyes of Mother Nature.

[technical note: I’m a YouTube neophyte. I’d be interested in learning whether any broadband users have trouble viewing the video. At first I used Windows Movie Maker to make it viewable by very slow broadband, but upped the bandwith ante after seeing how grainy and jerky it looked. The darkness isn't the fault of my Sony DCR-SR60; it's the fault of the sun going down.]

December 14, 2006

Hope I don’t sound heartless when I say to the relatives of the climbers lost on Mt. Hood, “Please, keep God out of your news conferences. Don’t use this tragedy as a platform for your religious faith.”

Today Frank James, brother of climber Kelly James, said on Fox News:

We are waiting and praying. Certainly there is a lot of praying. There are from time to time, tears. From time to time there is laughter…Our faith is strong. Our faith is three-fold. We have faith in Kelly, and Brian, and Nikko. We have faith in the rescuers. And we have faith in God.

There is little doubt that our faith is being refined these days. We understand how serious these weather conditions are. But our faith remains strong. It’s amazing. When you’re in these kinds of circumstances you might think that people would turn away from God. Precisely the opposite has happened. We’ve all turned to God in deeper and more profound ways.

Well, that’s nice, Frank. I just have to be honest. As a devoted agnostic, I share your humanness, because I’m human. But I don’t share your religiosity, because I’m not religious.

I listen to you empathetically when you speak of tears and laughter. However, when I hear you giving a mini-sermon to the reporters gathered on Mt. Hood, it turns me off. Didn’t Jesus advise praying in secret?

It seems that these folks are so busy making a show about their Christianity that they've forgotten what their own Bible says about being Christian: that Christian prayer should always be a private matter, conducted without fanfare and without an audience. The words are right there in bold print for any literate Christian to read, but Jesus' teaching about the hypocrisy of public prayer remains a true secret of the Bible.

I hope the climbers are found alive. Yet I don’t believe prayer is going to make any difference in whether this happens. I understand why the families of the lost men pray together. This is a natural human inclination, whether or not it does any good.

Earlier this year I wrote on my other blog that the West Virginia mine disaster shows the absurdity of prayer. The best prayer, one that even my Taoist soul can embrace, is “Thy will be done.” (“Thy” can mean anything: God, Allah, Tao, Buddha-nature, fate, the laws of nature.)

So if God needs to be brought into the public face of a tragedy, anyone can do this in a simple, humble, and universal manner. Just say, “We’re hoping for the best. But what will be, will be.”

December 12, 2006

Our last Salem Tango class was last night. We didn’t go to it but were there in spirit.

It isn’t possible for Peter, the instructor, to drive up from Corvallis each week anymore. Laurel and I are deeply appreciative of all the time and energy he and Joy, the organizer of the classes, put into bringing Tango to Salem for most of 2006.

In the “Tango” category of this blog you can learn what Tango has come to mean to me (scroll down past this post, which is at the top of the category postings).

I’m still a rank beginner at this challenging dance. But I’ve managed to absorb a smidgen of what’s been conveyed in the lessons we’ve taken from Peter, Carlos, and their assistants (Roy and Jodi).

Outwardly, this has been moves. Steps. Rhythm. Balance. Centering. Inwardly, this has been attitude. Leading. Following. Confidence. Connection. It’s the inward side of Tango that will mainly remain with me.

For unless you’re into dancing along the sidewalk whenever the mood strikes you, as in “The Tango Lesson,” Tango isn’t going to be in the forefront of every day. But there are universal lessons to be learned from the dance (see “I’m learning to Tango with life”).

One of the central themes of The Tango Lesson, a great movie, is the tension between leading and following. In a climactic scene Pablo Veron tells Sally Potter, his partner: “You should do nothing. When you dance—just follow! Otherwise you destroy my freedom to move.”

Is Pablo right? Wrong? Both right and wrong? Neither? Only Tango knows. And Tango isn’t telling.

All I know is that based on my dancing with myself throughout my waking hours, I sympathize with Pablo. Sometimes I’m a terrible follower. I lead myself in a certain direction, then feel resistance. From me.

“Is this the correct thing to do?” “Maybe there’s a better way.” “Are you sure?” “Shouldn’t you think some more before jumping into this?” “How will it look if you make a wrong step?”

Just follow, Brian! Be an empty vessel. Fill yourself with your self.

Sometimes I get thirsty during my Tai Chi classes. There’s a water dispenser and small paper cups in a corner. I pour myself a cup, have a drink, and then set the empty container on a shelf in the back of the room.

After class is over I engage in an oft-repeated ritual: I crumple up the cup, walk a few steps to line myself up with a waste basket on the other side of the room, and attempt a toss.

I always miss. The basket is small. The crumpled cup isn’t aerodynamic. The distance is considerable.

Last night Warren, my Tai Chi instructor, picked up the wad of paper, threw it back to me, and said, “Brian, you always miss.” “I know,” I told him.

“Try something different,” Warren said. “Look at the basket. Then shut your eyes. Just do it. Don’t think about it.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” I replied. Other students were staring at me. I felt like the guy at the free throw line when his team is one point down and there’s a second left on the clock.

“But I’ll give it a try.” Look. Close eyes. Toss. Miss. Retry. Same result. But worse.

“You’re trying too hard,” Warren said. “Relax. Just do it. Breathe.”

One more try. This time, though, it didn’t feel like a try. There wasn’t one side of me trying, and another side of me thinking “It probably won’t go in.” I didn’t really care if it did or not. I wasn’t aware of the other people in the room.

I just looked at the basket, shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and tossed the paper cup.

Right into the basket. Swish. No net (or the wastebasket equivalent).

One crumpled cup toss, one step toward learning how to Tango with life.

December 10, 2006

I bought my first Bratz recently. Looking over a Giving Tree at my athletic club, where Christmas present requests from needy children were hanging, just about every six to nine year old girl wanted a Bratz. So I headed off to Fred Meyer and entered a new doll world.

They’re a lot hotter and hipper than Barbie. More controversial, also, as a fascinating article in The New Yorker (“Little Hotties: Barbie’s new rivals”) discusses at length. These excerpts convey the essence of the Bratz appeal. And for many mothers, the fright.

"Bratz dolls have large heads and skinny bodies; their almond-shaped eyes are tilted upward at the edges and adorned with thick crescents of eyeshadow, and their lips are lush and pillowy, glossed to a candy-apple sheen and rimmed with dark lip liner. They look like pole dancers on their way to work at a gentlemen’s club.

…Bratz dolls don’t have Barbie’s pinup-girl measurements -- they’re not as busty and they’re shorter. But their outfits include halter tops, faux-fur armlets, and ankle-laced stiletto sandals, and they wear the sly, dozy expression of a party girl after one too many mojitos.

…You could never imagine a Bratz doll assuming any of the dozens of careers Barbie has pursued over the decades: not Business Executive or Surgeon or Summit Diplomat -- not even Pan Am Flight Attendant or Pet Doctor. Bratz girls seem more like kept girls, or girls trying to convert a stint on reality TV into a future as the new Ashlee or Lindsay or Paris."

The article says that Barbie was originally aimed at nine- to twelve-year-olds. Now, girls widely see it as a toy for three- to six- year olds. Many girls older than that like to destroy their Barbies. Like, in the microwave oven.

Why? The author of “Little Hotties,” Margaret Talbot, suggests that “Barbie now represents a ‘mommy figure’ for many girls, and they don’t particularly want to play with a doll who reminds them of their mothers.”

What seems to be driving the ascendancy of Bratz over Barbie, in large part, is the increased sexualization of young girls. In the old days “sassy” meant rude and disrespectful. Now, says Talbot:

What Bratz dolls are both contributing to and feeding on is a culture in which girls play at being "sassy" -- the toy industry’s favored euphemism for sexy -- and discard traditional toys at a younger age.

My daughter Celeste was born in 1972. When she and her friends started to play with dolls, a lot of them actually looked like chubby babies. I suppose you can still find dolls like that. But they’re not going to elicit screams of joy when opened on Christmas day.

In a few months I’m going to be a first-time grandfather. Celeste is going to have a girl. My daughter will have to decide whether to go the Bratz, Barbie, or whatever other doll route little girls want to travel on a few years from now.

This mother says, “you can’t say no to a Bratz doll forever.” I’m pretty sure my daughter won’t even try. After all, she lives in Hollywood. There most of the women you see on the sidewalk bear a decided resemblance to a Bratz or Barbie.

And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. As a man, you’d expect me to say that. But I have some scientific reasons for my “hottie is good” attitude that go beyond my inherent male chauvinistic pigness.

The November 30, 2006 New Scientist tells us why bonobos “Make Love, Not War.” The article says, “Humans, like chimps, are notoriously aggressive. So how come our other close relative, the bonobo, is so peaceable?”

There are a bunch of reasons. Not the least of which is sex.

"Bonobos are famous for it. Aside from the typical male/female activity, they also engage in more 'creative' behaviours: wet kissing, masturbation, oral sex, female/female and male/male couplings, group activities, the list goes on and on. The only restriction seems to be incest between mothers and their children.

Chimps by contrast restrict themselves almost entirely to male/female sex and don't have nearly as much of it as bonobos. What's more, males are dominant, frequently use food to lure females into having sex with them, and sometimes beat uncooperative females."

It looks like Britney and Madonna may be on to something.

That said, an over-sexed society has its problems. But so does an over-violent society. And if I had to choose one over the other, it’s obvious which way we should go.

December 08, 2006

According to conservative talk show host Lars Larson, James Kim is at fault for trusting a government map. What an idiot. I’m talking about Larson, not Kim.

Kim died when he and his family tried to take a treacherous Oregon back road after they missed a turnoff to Gold Beach via state Highway 42. They ended up stuck in snow. After a week, no rescuers had appeared. Kim left the car and set out on foot to seek help.

He succumbed to hypothermia. A tragedy. Thankfully, his wife and two children survived.

Wednesday Larson talked about the Kims on his local Portland show. I heard some of it live. Last night, while watching “Survivor,” we saw KOIN promos for the 11 o’clock news. They showed Larson criticizing Kim. But there wasn’t anything about this on the actual news.

Maybe Larson or KXL complained. Indeed, Larson comes off sounding like an insensitive right-wing blowhard. Which is exactly what he is. An archive of his December 6 show can be listened to here (click on the bottom 12/06/06).

I didn’t have the time or intestinal fortitude (Larson often makes me want to barf) to listen to the whole four hours. But I sampled segments of the show and got a pretty good feel for how Larson spun Kim’s death. Here are some excerpts from after the 3:44 mark.

Should this have happened? Should we tell people “you’ve got to make good decisions” and not be so dependent on the government?...He [Kim] looked at a map, which is a document not always generated by the government, but usually government is involved, and he decided based on a map to drive up a road that he’d never been on. He knew nothing about that road.

Larson then goes on to criticize the decisions Kim made. Not turning around and going back the same way when the snow got deep. Taking a side road instead (which, I heard elsewhere, was a rational attempt to get to a lower elevation). Trying to walk out instead of staying with the car.

At the 3:10 mark a caller says that it makes sense to look for help after a week of being stuck. The omniscient Larson responds that Kim’s family was rescued on Monday, so if he had stayed put for two more days he wouldn’t have died.

And if George Bush hadn’t invaded Iraq on the basis of faulty intelligence almost 3,000 American troops wouldn’t have died. But I don’t hear Larson castigating the Idiot in Chief for making that wrong decision. Not to mention all the wrong turns Bush has made subsequent to the invasion.

Nobody is infallible. Not Kim. Not Bush, And certainly not Lars Larson. But Larson and Bush think that they are. They have 20-20 vision when it comes to pointing out the supposed mistakes of others, yet manifest complete blindness when they look at their own shortcomings and misunderstandings.

December 07, 2006

Last night I channeled myself on a radio interview with two mediums. Marcel and Lenny had me back for another chat about churchless faith on their Achieve Radio program, “In Good Spirit.”

Who knew that in the past few months I was fated to have so much contact with a couple of mediums, after a lifetime of psychic skepticism?

Well, maybe Marcel and Lenny. But I don’t know, since I’m still skeptical.

Which brings to mind my favorite part about the interview: I didn’t say “you know” nearly as much as last time. Before the phone rang to connect me with these guys I gave myself an affirmation: “You will catch yourself before you reflexively say you know.”

It worked. Pretty much. I didn’t mind listening to the archive of the show this morning (click on DEC-6-06-at-9:00PM---In Good Spirit). I made a few inane or incomprehensible comments, but that’s par for the conversational course.

Marcel started off by asking me what I thought about the ascendancy of aggressive atheists like Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett, and Julia Sweeney. Their books (in Sweeney’s case, a play and CD) have titles like “The God Delusion” and “Letting Go of God.”

What’s going on here?

I said that I thought this was a healthy reaction to excessive religiosity. Fundamentalists have urged us to get on our knees. Now we’re hearing from the get off your knees crowd. That’s balance. The Tao abhors tilting too far one way or the other.

The most genuine faith is simply openness. A wide-eyed innocent embrace of reality, whatever it may consist of. The fact is, we don’t know. Science recognizes that there is a lot more truth to be found under the thin layer of knowledge that humankind has revealed so far.

It doesn’t make sense to rule out the possibility that reality extends beyond the domain of the physical. But it also is nonsensical to blindly accept on faith that earthly existence is only the ground floor of a grander metaphysical structure.

Yesterday I wrote that for me the changing face of faith “means moving away from looking at life through spread mental fingers, believing in this but not in that, refusing to consider the possibility of X while embracing the hypothesis of Y.”

Listen to the interview for more along these lines. I’m on for about eighteen and a half minutes. I know this because I wanted to check out how much I talked, compared to Marcel and Lenny.

Near the end of the interview Marcel commented that agnostics sure have a lot to say, as he couldn’t get a word in for the last five minutes. Well, this morning I found the archive and I whipped out two digital watches with timers on them.

I talked for nine minutes and fifty seconds. That’s 53 percent of the time, Marcel! A nicely balanced use of the available minutes. About half for the interviewers, half for the interviewee.

December 05, 2006

If you love Oregon, fire up your fury. Because Measure 37 is threatening to pave our state over with unregulated subdivisions. As the lead Oregonian editorial said yesterday, the true game behind Measure 37 now is evident.

It never was about letting little old ladies like Dorothy English build a home on family land that some bad bureaucrat said, “No!” to. That was just a ploy to con voters.

Timber companies supplied most of the money needed to pass the measure in 2004. Now we’re seeing why. Plum Creek Timber Company has filed a Measure 37 claim on 32,000 acres of coastal forestland. Many other similar claims are flooding in.

It’s all about greed, not striking a balance between private gain and the public good. These people don’t give a damn about Oregon. They won’t be living in the ticky-tacky developments that they want to plop down in the middle of forests and farmland. They just want to make money.

Folks in Umatilla County, not exactly a hotbed of liberalism, are fighting mad about Wyland Ranches’ scheme to convert 1,600 acres into home sites. The county commissioners have deferred approving this Measure 37 claim for as long as possible, hoping that the upcoming state legislature session will be able to fix Oregon’s land use nightmare.

Yesterday Laurel went up to Portland and took part in a 1000 Friends of Oregon press conference. She talked about how an adjacent claim threatens the groundwater supply in our Spring Lake Estates neighborhood.

People in our area are angry. They moved here expecting that either surrounding farmland would remain that way, or there would be a fair and deliberate process if someone wanted to change EFU (exclusive farm use) zoning.

Now they’re realizing that Measure 37 is neither fair nor deliberate. It’s a “make as much money as you can” free for all that pits neighbor against neighbor.

1000 Friends of Oregon says that it is time to suspend Measure 37 until the Oregon legislature is able to craft improvements to this seriously flawed law. Laurel and I agree. And so do the dozens of our neighbors who have contributed thousands of dollars to fight the subdivision whose 80 wells could turn our beautiful community lake into a dust bowl.

I took this photo today at sunset during a walk around the lake. Notice: No smokestacks. No McDonalds. No sidewalks. This is the Oregon almost everyone in this state loves, not the paved-over Oregon that Measure 37 is bringing us.

It’s time to get fired up. Pissed off. Righteously indignant. Our legislators and public officials need to hear from the people. Big corporations already have had their say through Oregonians in Action, the concrete industry’s best friend. Now the voices of those who care about Oregon need to be heard.

1000 Friends of Oregon makes it easy. Their web site tells you how to contact state and local officials and what to say. The game plan is to urge two things:

Temporarily suspend Measure 37, and development resulting from already-approved land use waivers, to allow the Legislative Assembly time to craft even-handed fairness legislation; and

Schedule hearings throughout Oregon so that citizens can voice their concerns about Measure 37 and help develop a comprehensive reform effort.

Do what you can. The bulldozers are starting to move. We’ve got to stop them. Now.

December 03, 2006

Well, I’m taking some liberty with this blog post title. I do indeed own a copy of the Quran, but I can’t find it at the moment. I’d be pleased to swear an oath on it, though. Just like the first Muslim member of Congress, Keith Ellison, is intending to do next month.

Of course, the difference between Ellison and me is that I’d be equally happy to place my hand on a Bible, Bhagavad Gita, Tao Te Ching, or any other supposedly holy book and attest to whatever someone wanted me to affirm. I wouldn’t care which book it was, because I don’t wholeheartedly believe in any of them.

But Ellison does believe in the Quran and he has every right to be sworn in with it. Some right-wing crazies disagree. Dennis Prager is their prime xenophobic mouthpiece, arguing in his nonsensical “Multiculturalism run amok” rant:

Forgive me, but America should not give a hoot what Keith Ellison's favorite book is. Insofar as a member of Congress taking an oath to serve America and uphold its values is concerned, America is interested in only one book, the Bible. If you are incapable of taking an oath on that book, don't serve in Congress.

No, Mr. Prager, I don’t forgive you. I belong to that reasonable zone of the blogosphere where you’re considered a dumbass. Along with everyone else who thinks that the United States should be a Christian nation that looks down on other religious views (including the view that rejects all religions).

Prager, I’m confident, is a dying breed. It won’t be long before his “the Bible is America’s official holy book” prejudice seems as anachronistically distasteful as “blacks are inferior to whites.” After all, fundamentalism is religious racism, as someone whose perspective I deeply respect (me) has said.

Racists erroneously believe that there is proof one race is superior to another. Fundamentalists erroneously believe that there is proof one religion is superior to another.

Thus there’s a natural affinity between fundamentalism and racism. This is one reason, among many, why fundamentalism in any form—Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Sikh, whatever—can’t be tolerated by tolerant people.

Most people in this country are Christians. Most people in Saudi Arabia are Muslims. That’s almost entirely an accident of birth. If Dennis Prager had been born in Saudi Arabia to Muslim parents, it’s virtually certain that he’d be praising the Quran rather than the Bible.

Now, I realize that most people in this country are more tolerant of other faiths than Prager and his narrow minded ilk. But what bothers me is that Prager’s attitude is tolerated to any extent by Christian believers and Republican faithful. How can anyone agree with this statement of his?

When all elected officials take their oaths of office with their hands on the very same book, they all affirm that some unifying value system underlies American civilization. If Keith Ellison is allowed to change that, he will be doing more damage to the unity of America and to the value system that has formed this country than the terrorists of 9-11.

I have no idea what Prager is talking about. “Unifying value system”? I assume he means the Bible, the book that each and every Congressional crook took the oath of office on before trashing the only genuine unifying value system I’m aware of: do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

December 01, 2006

Most computer software that I use is blandly functional, like Word and Outlook. Some of it is curse-worthy crap that I get rid of as soon as I can. And then there’s the sweet stuff: software that brings a smile.

Because it’s so beautifully designed. Because it does what it’s supposed to. Because it fixes a vexing problem caused by less praise-worthy software.

Here's what I’m currently in love with on my laptop.

Google. Lots to like here. I just downloaded Google Desktop after a lengthy absence. I had it on my old computer and decided to give it another try. Wise decision. The Desktop Sidebar is slick. And like most everything Googleish, works like a charm. My current gadgets are a clock, to-do list, email summary, scratch pad, and Wikipedia/Google quick search boxes.

The Desktop search functions seem much improved from the previous version. Now you have more control over what gets indexed. Deleted files can be omitted from search results if you like. When I just couldn’t remember where the heck some bit of info I wanted was—file, email, web site I’d visited?—Google Desktop has saved me from lots of fruitless searching.

Just as Google Page Creator has saved me from lots of frustration when I want to put up a simple web page. I’ve tried FrontPage. I’ve tried several supposedly “quick and easy” web site creation software packages. I’ve tried some other online services.

But this stealthy offering from Google Labs (it doesn’t yet appear in Google’s list of offerings) is the clear winner. If your web page/site needs aren’t complicated, Page Creator is the way to go. It’s intuitive and marvelously easy to use. I’m using it to put together a compendium of postings from my other blog (still under construction).

Lastly, Google’s Gmail was the solution to a vexing email problem. Our satellite Internet provider, WildBlue, has a ridiculously stingy policy on email storage and upload/download file sizes. I kept getting messages returned because an attachment was over 5 or 10 mb.

Now my wife and I forward our email addresses to separate Gmail accounts. Again, slick. No more worrying about Wild Blue’s stingy file size rules, because Gmail does the sending and receiving of messages. So far the Gmail service has never been down, something that, unfortunately, can’t be said of WildBlue.

RoboForm. Ah, what a beautiful piece of password-saving, form-filling software. If you’ve signed up with numerous password protected web sites, as I have, RoboForm is a must. I used to keep passwords written down in a Word file, which I’d print out for easy reference. But I had to worry about the security of the file (as well as the print out).

Now RoboForm is a trusted companion on my browser’s toolbar. It works equally well with Firefox and Explorer. RoboForm generates random passwords for you, saves them, and enters them on password-protected sites. All you have to do is remember a master password that opens the encrypted RoboForm file.

This program has never failed me. I wouldn’t know what to do without it now.

SystemSuite. The day I dumped Norton SystemWorks and embraced the SystemSuite collection of utilities (firewall, virus protection, optimization, recovery, etc.) was a happy moment. SystemWorks would screw up my computer almost as much as it protected it.

The last straw came when I upgraded to a new version and couldn’t install it because remnants of the old version were resisting being deleted. I asked for help from SystemWorks tech support and was directed to complicated instructions for going into the registry and manually deleting the recalcitrant files. Soon after I bought SystemSuite.

Another wise decision. It’s not flashy, but it does the job. I don’t hold my breath when I de-fragment my hard drive, like I used to with the Norton software. When I have a question I get an email response from the SystemSuite tech support people within a day. And the answer makes sense, unlike my experience with SystemWorks.

The SystemSuite 7 upgrade has been the only fly in my otherwise satisfied ointment. If you’re using version 7 and find that your computer has slowed to a crawl, hit ctrl-alt-delete and see if mxtask.exe is sucking up a prodigious amount of your CPU resources.

If it is, try shutting down the SystemSuite firewall and letting the Windows firewall protect you temporarily. When I did this, my computer went back to acting normal. SystemSuite has admitted to me that there is a problem and they hope to get it fixed soon.

Until they do, I’m using a trial version of the Sunbelt firewall and leaving the SystemSuite firewall off (I don’t trust the Windows firewall). I made the mistake of trying the free ZoneAlarm firewall for a few days. It worked for a while, then decided that it needed to protect me from my WildBlue internet connection that, until then, it had correctly identified as an approved firewall passer through.

In the course of researching this problem, I came across a disturbingly extensive ZoneAlarm Gripes page. This is a program that causes too many frowns rather than smiles. My advice is, don’t install the free version.